Is it February yet? No? Then you mean I DON'T have to hear about Sweetbean's birthday EVERY SINGLE DAY and that it is still like three weeks away and ohmygod am I going nuts discussing cakes and bicycles and knight's shields to play with YES YES I AM. The flip side of that is Manwife's birthday is the day following Sweetbean's, and I have yet to hear one peep out of him about what he wants aside from "yellow cake with vanilla frosting and enchiladas divorciadas". ew, yellow cake and vanilla. Bland! I asked if I could at least draw on it with colored frosting and add a million candles and sprinkles or sugared flowers, but got shot down. Oh well, on my birthday I will make a huge cake filled with candy bars and decorated with flowers and tinsel and sparklers or some shit.
I think I may just do that for Bumblebee's womb-emergence day. Or make someone else do it. Last time I pooped out a kid, I got triple fudge chunk brownies. It was the best thing I have ever put in my mouth, ever, and it even got the taste of puke out. Because...puking, baby crapping out, they tend to go hand in hand. Boo to that.
So, it's early, I'm rambling, and I can't have coffee because baby Bumble will knock around my innards like a giant boney pinball for three hours. Her favorite place to stomp thus far seems to be the join of ligaments and muscle between my lower belly and left hip. And when she gets caffinated...well, she can jump pretty high in there. Lung-high. With smacking them and knocking into my solar plexus. So I have to suffer being brain dead until about 11 am, and missing out on sweet co-op dark roast.
I think I'm just posting to keep in the habit...I actually posted on my craftin' blog, the first entry with pictures and whatnot! And because I got so much shit about it...and it's all people could focus on, I changed the name. See, when you mention you start a craft blog in order to possibly sell shit, the last thing you want to hear is OMG that reminds me of this obnoxious kids' book! No, you want to hear "oh, what do you do?" or "good luck", along those lines.
So now it's another obnoxious name - Mama-llama-rama. Booyakasha.
Mostly I just like llamas. And goats. But I couldn't think of a good goat rhyme, so there you go.
I'd better return to the real world...between the boxes of old Sweetbean baby stuff Manwife dug up for me at Dad's house (which I in no way wanted to go near, unfortunately, so now I miss my Dad more than anybody, boo), the boxes from my girlfriend's 1 year old daughter and a whole boatload of clothes from my stepmom I am swimming in laundry and tiny pink things. Hopefully I can sort things to where they are a good mix of girly and not-girly-at-all (lots of hippie boy stuff from Sweetbean), and then share the rest with my other two friends who are girlier than I and ALSO pregnant with girls. Good lord. So much pink. I really am sick of it. That and this "Princess" or "Spoiled Rotten" type of shirt you see so much in girls' departments of stores...you don't get that with boys so much. It's kind of more than a little appalling. Ick. TOO. MUCH. PINK. And lace. And princess bullshit. PLZ HALP SEND METAL SHRT ASAP SOS - preferably tool or deftones or anthrax kthx.
Off to the pink heap of doom.
